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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438310">Garlic and Semolina</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamsercetlynot/pseuds/Iamsercetlynot'>Iamsercetlynot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Artist Steve Rogers, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Pasta, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Short One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:07:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamsercetlynot/pseuds/Iamsercetlynot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky dream of the future<br/>ft. homemade pasta</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Everlasting Friends - Bromance and Friendship Gift Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Garlic and Semolina</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts">Val_Creative</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Faint traces of semolina flour and egg hung on the air. Empty drying racks were scattered along the limited counter space. Fun gingham curtains barely kept the afternoon sun from beaming into the kitchen. A large cookpot rested on top of an open flame of a gas stove, filled with the thick noodles made that morning. A boy stood over it, holding a ladle like a weapon. He studied it through dark lashes, occasionally running a hand through his dark hair, poking the noodles so they didn’t stick together. His back was to his friend. A skinny blonde boy, his clothes too big for him, doodling at an oak table. A record player spinning a Bill Haley vinyl sang, “I’m like a one-eyed cat, peeping in a seafood store….” </p><p>“Grab me some garlic won’t you?” </p><p>Bucky had been making pasta all morning. Making a well out of flour, cracking an egg in its middle, and mixing and kneading until it formed a thick dough. He’d enlisted Steve in the pasta rolling process. Steve’s noodles had come out too thick. Bucky had to redo it and gave him the job ‘of hanging pasta to dry’. Until Steve dropped a rack. Then he’d been banished to the table while Bucky boiled water. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this. Bucky was determined to teach his best friend the art of pasta making. Even if his friend was less than enthused about the idea.<br/>
Steve dropped his pencil on his sketchbook and looked at the wide array of spices spread out on the table. There were too many options to choose from.<br/>
“Diced, minced, granulated, powdered, or this whole one?” He asked, picking up the small, round thing. Its skin rustled like crackly cellophane. </p><p>Bucky turned away from his bubbling pot and peered at his hand. “That’s an onion.” </p><p>Steve hastily set it back. Bucky, not trusting his judgment, picked up a handful of minced garlic and returned to his pot. “A garlic clove is white. Remember, Steve? Johnston’s ma used to make him wear necklaces of it to ward off the flu.” </p><p>Steve did remember. Pasty Johnston with his ever-present runny nose and red cheeks. Chains of dried bulbs hanging around his neck. Once Blake dumped a water bucket over him. Then Johnston smelled like damp garlic. Steve punched with Blake for it, and when Blake tried to choke him out, Bucky finished it. Steve remembered that vividly, Bucky dragging him home to his ma’s kitchen. There he’d gotten him ice and lectured him about how to avoid fights. Not that it’d done him any good. They’d been best friends ever since.  </p><p>“That was years ago.” He grumbled, looking down at his drawing. It was a rough thing. Dark lead lines forming a picture of two boys, their arms slung over the shoulders of the other. Steve frowned. The proportions were all off. Bucky’s head was bigger than his and Steve’s arm was wonky.   He briefly considered tearing it up and thought better of it. </p><p>Flipping to a clean page, he started anew. Bucky turned off the stove. Grabbing two bowls, he filled them to the brim with hot noodles. He set the steaming bowl in front of Steve and pulled out a chair. “Bon Appetit.” </p><p>Steve didn’t pay him any mind. He remained bent over his creation, carefully shading in the folds of 2D Bucky’s jacket.  Bucky leaned over on his elbows and studied his second attempt.<br/>
“Is that an alien?” </p><p>“For your information, it’s you.” </p><p>“My eyes are not that big. You’re making me look like a gangster with that all that shading. And you aren’t that big.” </p><p>“Nerd,” Steve said affectionately, poking him with his pencil. He glanced down at the bowl before him. “Looks good.” </p><p>“I followed Ma’s recipe. Added some salt and garlic, dried basil, and olive oil.” Bucky said through a full mouth. “I wish we had some chicken.”</p><p>“Should have told me. I could have scraped up some coward from an alleyway and skinned him for ya.” </p><p>Bucky rolled his eyes at his bravado and reached for his fork. “Just eat your pasta, Punk.” </p><p>The vinyl came to a scratching stop as Bill Haley’s voice faded away. Pasta slurping and munching filled the kitchen as the boys ate in contented silence. Bucky finished before him and reached for Steve’s sketchbook. Steve let him have it and watched at Bucky scritched out a stick figure drawing. </p><p>“This is us when I get my car,” Bucky said slowly, dragging out a rectangle and two circles underneath it. This was their favorite game. Bucky loved to dream. Of a future bigger and brighter than the cold reality. Steve liked watching his eyes light up and adding onto his friend's hopes for a new reality. </p><p>“With a car like that, we could go to the races,” Steve said, pushing his bowl away. </p><p>“Yeah and enough space so we can get dates to the dances,” Bucky added more stick figures to the back of it. Two in the front and two in the back with lines streaming off their heads for a feminine effect. Then he drew two triangles off the sides. “Presenting the flying car!” </p><p>Steve laughed. “You’re out of your mind.” </p><p>“I’ve been reading up on Stark technology. He’s not much older than us, and he’s a genius, Steve.” Bucky tapped the page. “The future is going to be wild.” </p><p>Steve looked at his best friend’s bright brown eyes and wished that he could freeze them in this moment forever.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I didn't realize how much I missed writing about  Bucky and Steve. My 'and they were roommates rewrite' should be coming out after I finish my newest star wars long fic. A big thanks to Val_creative for the prompt, it's for a  friendship Valentine's day fic exchange.   Hope y'all enjoy it and check out their work!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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